The Infirmary

The sudden "random illness" sent a chill down Fu Liangxia's spine. Terrified of passing out right there, unnoticed and untreated, she practically sprinted to the door and yanked it open.

"All done already?" Su Xingshu, waiting outside, looked up as the door swung open. Behind him stood Fu Liedong and Wang Ziwei.

The tall youth wore a gentle smile—though it didn't quite reach his eyes, it was still stunningly handsome. "The thing I had got cancelled, so I came back to change. Where are you headed now? The class lounge?"

Thoughtful, perfectly fitting his public persona, and far more polite than Cheng Xingzhou had been earlier.

Except Fu Liangxia doubted she'd make it to the class lounge at all.

"No..." She was still figuring out how to casually ask where the infirmary was, when a sharp, searing pain stabbed through her skull. Her whole body convulsed like an electric shock, and her legs gave out.

"Sis, what's wrong?!" Fu Liedong gasped, instinctively stepping forward.

"I'm... fine." Fu Liangxia steadied herself against the wall with her right arm, her face deathly pale. With every breath, the pain intensified.

She was too miserable to speak now; all she wanted was to lie down in the infirmary.

But Fu Liedong kept squawking beside her, and even Wang Ziwei was startled by her sudden "episode."

Su Xingshu, meanwhile—who'd just been all solicitous concern—simply folded his arms and watched her with a faintly assessing gaze.

Could it be that letting her use his lounge had given her delusions?

Uncertainty flickered in Su Xingshu's eyes, and a hint of impatience crept in.

Fu Liangxia had always been acutely sensitive to others' emotions, and catching that odd scrutiny sparked a flash of insight.

Oh no. Was he suspecting she was faking it?

Her vision blurred with white, yet somehow her mind stayed sharp—or rather, the pain made her think faster.

She vaguely recalled from the original novel that Su Xingshu, as a child, had been severely harassed because of his beauty, leaving deep psychological scars and a fear of women. At some point, he'd swung to the opposite extreme—he started cycling through girlfriends.

Maybe that was his way of confronting the fear.

But he still loathed fangirls, especially women who tried to touch him or grope.

Thinking back, she realized Su Xingshu had only ever shown his player side through his smile and sweet talk. Anyone who tried to sneak a touch was always blocked by his lackeys.

That explained it... except, wait—did he think her collapsing now was another ploy to get close to him?

...She really wished these guys would lend her some of their self-confidence.

"Can you walk on your own?" Su Xingshu asked.

Wang Ziwei, catching the coldness in Su Xingshu's tone, blinked in confusion. "Boss Su?"

"I think so..." Fu Liangxia pressed her temple hard with her left hand and nodded with effort, not wanting Su Xingshu to think she was trying to take advantage.

She shuffled closer to Fu Liedong, hoping that if she collapsed, she wouldn't fall on Su Xingshu.

But fate had other plans.

[Random illness loaded. Host, please prepare.]

Su Xingshu nodded and started walking toward the lounge again. "In that case, you can head to the infirmary yourself—"

Before he could finish, the girl nearby went limp and toppled toward him.

Wang Ziwei: "Is she... about to transmigrate?"

Fu Liedong: "... Shut up."

"..."

Su Xingshu frowned the instant she fell, instinctively moving to dodge.

But neither of the other two was close enough to catch her. Driven by a shred of conscience, he forced himself to stay put and shot out a hand to grab her collar, just barely saving Fu Liangxia from face-planting.

The weight under his grip was absurdly light. Because the shirt was so loose, it slipped, revealing the fair, slender nape of her neck and a sliver of snow-white skin below.

Like a swan bowing its head—fragile and aloof.

But Su Xingshu's tolerance ended there. "Fu Liedong, you hold her."

"Huh? Oh, right!"

As a loyal follower, Fu Liedong never asked why; his dad had taught him that carrying out orders was enough.

Taking his sister from Su Xingshu, he debated whether to rush her to the infirmary now or wait until Su finished changing...

In the end, worry for his sister won out over his bootlicking instincts. He muttered something and half-carried Fu Liangxia toward the infirmary.

But Su Xingshu had no idea what his follower was thinking. His gaze swept over the girl, who seemed to have lost consciousness—lips bloodless, long lashes casting a shadow on her cheeks, a faint sheen of sweat on her skin. She looked utterly miserable.

So she wasn't faking it?

Wang Ziwei showed rare disapproval as he watched Fu Liedong run off, murmuring, "Boss Su, Fu Liangxia seems genuinely unwell, not..."

"Mm." Su Xingshu silently looked away, clenching his fingers, which still seemed to carry the cool touch of the shirt and the fleeting silkiness of skin.

A rare pang of guilt welled up.

Had he gone too far?

...

"Nothing serious—just mild malnutrition. She should wake up after the IV drip. The sudden collapse is most likely due to low blood pressure or low blood sugar; you could take her to the hospital for a check-up sometime."

"But given this student's history, we can't rule out other factors... She needs rest."

"I have some work to handle here. If anything comes up, you can find me next door."

"Alright, thank you, Doctor. You go ahead."

"..."

"Has your sister always been in poor health?"

"Yeah, ever since I can remember, she's been in and out of the hospital. She's spent more time in the sanatorium than at home. My parents hardly let her move around; her usual range was just the little garden there."

"But you know, Boss Su, we used to live in the Lower City. The sanatorium there wasn't even half the size of our academy, let alone its garden. So today might be the most she's ever walked... she's just tired."

Muffled voices seeped through the door, stirring Fu Liangxia awake.

She opened her eyes to a curtain embroidered with pale gold, a vaulted gray marble ceiling, and a faint hint of incense in the air.

No wonder it was the academy's infirmary—more lavish than her previous life's living room. Money was nice.

She wished she were rich enough that her family's infirmary was bigger than an ordinary person's whole house.

"You're awake."

Just as she was staring at the ceiling in a daze, a familiar voice spoke up.